Unrequited
by OrilliaOrange
Summary: Fill for a "love triangle" prompt on tumblr


Varric remembers love, remembers when Bianca was the guiding star of his life, when time apart from her set all his skin aflame with need, and only her touch soothed it. In all their scattered, misplaced years, the burning is what he holds onto. He stays because he can't leave, can't forsake the woman who still burns like a brand in his memory.

Varric doesn't stop holding on, but the world is hard, and he hardens his heart against it. Slowly, so slowly he doesn't notice, the memory of Bianca is no longer a flame, only a calcified remnant. He remembers her the way you might remember a love story you once read. Something that happened to other people long ago, in a book you'll never read again.

The Seeker is everything that pisses him off- sanctimonious, self righteous, difficult, and passionate. She never does anything by halves, and she cares- deeply, intensely, and inconveniently. Varric finds her too much, entirely too much. There's no way she can really be who she says she is. No one ever is. This is something the Inquisitor hasn't caught onto yet, but it's evident by their first mission out of Haven that the man's infatuated with her. Probably an after effect of being her prisoner, Varric thinks. Going from Thedas' most wanted to Herald of Andraste in under a week has to do some weird shit to your head.

Varric watches and waits, and tells himself he's keeping an eye on their fearless leader. He watches Cassandra smash her way through training dummies, bandits, mages, templars, demons, and anything that might be a threat. By the time they've hit Skyhold, Varric knows these things for sure- the Inquisitor loves Cassandra, but so does he.

However it happened, when it happened, is lost to the mists of time and the tricks of memory. All Varric can think is that he'd been a fool in so many ways. A fool to judge Cassandra, to discount the Inquisitor's heart, and a fool to believe the memory of fire would be enough.

Wherever they are, his eyes always find Cassandra, the Seeker is his lodestone. She's still blunt and self righteous and sharp tongued, but there's so much more to her. Things Varric discovers every day, he can't believe he never saw before. Cassandra has a kind heart, a sharp wit, and a dry sense of humour. She's indefatigable in battle, and passionate in her beliefs.

It isn't until the Inquisitor asks him to write Swords and Shields for her that he realizes Cassandra has an awkward side, and a romantic soul. It's worth it to see her so nakedly happy, even if it is the result of his worst book and the Inquisitor's charms.

While Varric's been hiding, the Inquisitor has been busy and Cassandra laughs when they talk, blushes and smiles. The man's clearly well on his way to being madly in love, and damn him but Varric is jealous.

Jealousy is a great motivator, and so Varric finds himself fighting at Cassandra's side whenever possible, gratified by the way the move together. In battle he and Cassandra make one hell of a team, though Varric always waits to rush in until Cassandra needs help. Justifies it to himself as aiding a friend.

Justifying it to the Inquisitor isn't as easy. Especially since Varric's been incautious lately, has been allowing himself too close to Cassandra.

After that, tension crackles in the air, and Varric wonders if it was wise to piss off the Herald of Andraste. Probably not, but Varric wouldn't sacrifice his tentative friendship with Cassandra if the Maker himself came down and begged on bended knee.

They don't have much of a friendship, but every bit of it is precious.

Eventually, as they're bound to do, things come to a head. Mostly because Cassandra forces his hand in that clumsy, forthright way of hers that shows she really cares.

Of course, taking a blow aimed for him isn't the most romantic gesture- Varric's heart stops cold in his chest when the bandit's mace strikes Cassandra's armoured ribs and her head strikes the ground as she crumples, but it's very Cassandra- something Varric scolds her for while pouring a potion down her throat. Mostly he's running his mouth for the sake of it, they're safely behind some boulders while the Inquisitor and Vivienne finish the fight, so no one can hear him but Cassandra, and she's out cold.

Hes in the middle of a tirade about how if she ever scares him like that again, not only will he never write another Swords and Shields, but she'll have to be responsible for reducing his lifespan by decades, and then what? When he realizes Cassandra's awake and giving him a very confused look, touched with hurt.

Some quip about how he's sorry the Inquisitor was unavailable for grand heroic rescues falters on his lips when Cassandra, eyes still a little unfocused brushes her fingers against his jaw, as though she's not sure she should.

Cassandra might not have found Hawke, but that doesn't mean she's not smart, and Varric can see understanding in her eyes as she puts the pieces together.

"There you lot are! Leaving us all the hard work as usual, i see," the Inquisitor says, jovial and bloodstained.

Whatever had been in Cassandra's eyes dims, and Varric feels the loss acutely as she pulls herself up and away from him.

Whatever it had been was the result of a serious injury, Varric tells himself, trying to obliterate her warmth and weight and scent from his mind, struggling to remember them.

Later, Cassandra looks at him and Varric looks away, looks back to see her chatting with the Inquisitor and their campsite is too small, too close, the fire's too bright and too hot. Vivienne's gaze is too uncomfortably knowing.

That night the ground is cold and hard, the moonlight silvery bright, the night chirp and chime obscenely. Varric's outside, his aching eyes seek out the constellations, while his heart yearns. At the very least, no one is awake to see his humiliating misery, cold comfort but that's alright. Some drunk Orlesian once told him there's no creature more wretched than a lover, and Varric vehemently agrees.

"You don't like me, " a clipped Nevarran voice says "You've never-"

"I know," Varric says, and shrugs.

"Why didn't you say something. Did you think I wouldn't realize?" Her voice quavers, and Varric can recognize pain, and anger when he hears it.

"Varric," Cassandra starts, then cuts herself off.

Andraste curse him for a fool.


End file.
